Ember and Expectations
by Embsglory
Summary: Follow Ember, a nineteen year old that is faced with the unpredictability of life. She lives in the Cartaver Region, where Pokémon battles are strictly prohibited. However, Pokémon are a very important part of Ember's life, especially her Arcanine, Bandit. Together, the two will face the trials of adulthood and discover the pleasures and pains of growing up.


The faster I peddled the slower I seemed to go. Bandit looked tired too, but he wouldn't start complaining unless he was thirsty. "Come on bud, let's rest at these trees."

Gratefully, Bandit steered himself across the road to a grouping of trees. This area was mostly neighborhoods but there was only one driveway in sight from where Bandit and I sat. Surely the owners of the land wouldn't mind our short stop, after all we weren't the type to go knocking on the door. Bandit lapped up the water I poured out of my canteen. We spent the next half hour recovering from our journey. As I leaned against a tree with my magazine, Bandit curled up by my bike and napped. Occasionally I would look up from my reading to watch Bandit grunt furiously and reposition himself. My mind began wondering, as it often did in these moments, what a large arcanine like Bandit could be afraid of. I usually consider that he dreams as a growlithe, but when we were younger he was overconfident and fearless. Bandit and I both had changed when we arrived at school. Bandit of course gained nothing from being at school with me, but he was often concerned over my stress. Our walks turned into runs in those first few months as we battled with homesickness and resentment.

My parents dropped us off at Orienteraiva in complete silence. I was tired of fighting their insistence that I become an accountant, and they were disappointed at my lack of enthusiasm. My mother had made her living as a persistent real estate agent and my father was a renowned doctor for the elderly. I on the other hand, was the second oldest of four kids, and so far had done nothing with my life except get good grades and stay out of trouble. Growing up, my older sister Janice caused quite stir in our household. Despite her hot temper and attraction to trouble though, she always came out on top. You can't keep her down long before she is loose again causing commotion, typically amongst the town boys. Bandit and I kept up with her skitty most of the time. We weren't sure what to call it since Janice never named it, so I usually just called it Food. Any time I had treats it would appear out of nowhere to partake in the joyous occasion. After a while, "Food?" turned into "Food! Here boy!" and the name stuck. When Janice went off to law school two years ago, she took Food with her and I could tell he was disappointed. I made sure to slip some treats into his oversized carrier. Janice will make a great mayor one day.

My parents never let us have more than one Pokemon a piece. Bandit is my Pokemon, against my mother's wishes. She only tolerates small Pokemon and prefers that they don't spout fire, water, or any other destructive force that will ruin her house. When I brought Bandit home, my mother was more than livid. It took the next two years of my childhood to convince her I needed him. Of course, he was only a growlithe then. The day that Bandit evolved was a whole other set of arguments. I reached out to rub his back. Bandit is my best friend.

In the Cartaver Region, battles are forbidden. I read about Pokemon battles in my magazines sometimes, but I have never had one. The only thing Bandit and I do is perform special tricks for the kids back home in Caseiro Town. At Orienteraiva we have been kicked out of the gym twice for performing tricks because the professors did not want a riot breaking out and someone getting hurt. I am not sure what happened in Cartaver that caused for such a severe enforcement because nobody talks about it. Over two-thirds of the students at Orienteraiva have Pokemon, but they keep them locked in their rooms or rested in their poke balls. Bandit doesn't even have a poke ball. I told my mom I lost it, but the truth is that I like to give him his space. Sometimes he leaves for a few hours and I let him have his time. He always comes back, occasionally with a flower or berry in his mouth for me. When we perform our tricks I always add a few things to spice up the act. I like to ground up berries and other things that sparkle when Bandit fires them.

In the midst of my thought, Bandit jumps up.

"What?"

He looks past me into the wooded area. A shriek echoed around the trees and into the open space. Bandit and I shot through the woods faster than our sore legs could take us. The cry gets louder and then stops. I slow to a jog but Bandit keeps pursuing. Suddenly every tree looks the same and I search for any indication that we haven't traveled to far from the road where we left my bike, magazine, and back pack full of money and other essentials. I turn around and start running back to get it when I hear the shriek once more, this time accompanied by Bandit's deep howl.

"Uhh... I'm coming!"

Another howl and then a snap. With the most caution I could use in this situation, I proceed towards the sound. Bandit isn't very hard to miss among the brown and dark green of the woods. When I finally see his deep red fur I call out his name. He limps over to me and anger builds in my stomach. Bandit had gotten his foot caught in a poaching trap. Between removing his foot and ripping the sleeve off my t-shirt to bandage it, I mumble threats to whoever was behind this. Where did these traps even come from? How close was I to entering one myself? The shrieking had died for a moment and I looked over my head to find a frail pidgey locked in some sort wired cage. I describe it this way, because I have never viewed something so cold and mechanical in my life. The cage was connected to a series of wires that rolled down the tree like vines and disappeared into the ground. Before I did anything else, I checked the area for more traps. With Bandit's good three legs, he let me stand on his back and hoisted me to the cage. The pidgey pressed itself to the farthest edge of the cage and shook with fear.

Without any other options, I began singing. I wished I had some sort of nourishment to offer, because pidgey's condition was far worse with closer inspection. Sap had hardened several splotches of its feathers, and its body was small, likely from stunted growth. That, however, might work to our advantage. Struggling to keep my balance, I was able to pull apart a large enough opening that I was pretty sure the pidgey could fit through. It had not moved from the edge of the cage, but the shivering had stopped. Bandit let me down, as if to tell me the pidgey needed some space. I agreed and we sat there a while, waiting for some sort of exit. Normally, I would grow impatient, but there was a calmness that filled me in these moments. It wasn't until the sun began to set that I suggested Bandit and I head back to the dorm.

Before we left, Bandit lifted me up once more to the cage. The pidgey had fallen asleep at the corner of the cage.

"Let's go Bandit. We can come back in the morning."

When we got back to my bike, I pulled out a my aid pack and finished attending to Bandit's wound. He was able to walk on his paw, but not with all off his weight. We got back to the room exhausted. I changed shirts and threw the other one out. I was not even hungry. Laying on my bed I tossed around thoughts about the pidgey, and wondered who had used it as bate to trap other Pokemon. Bandit nuzzled my hand from beside the bed.

"Get up here you big monster. Just until your paw is better though, we can't both fit every night."

The remainder of the night was silent with the exception of my roommate entering around midnight. I occasionally wiped the tears from my eyes as I thought about all that had happened that day. My body was exhausted, but I anticipated that my mind would keep me up all night. Some time before the sun rose, I fell asleep.

How short the sweetness of sleep is though; I woke up for breakfast the next morning. My hunger finally caught up with me, and I looked around around the room for my shoes. Bandit opted to sleep in, and I promised myself I would bring him back a piece of bread. After a few stretches and brushing my teeth and hair, I walked around campus to the Dining Hall. Most of the staff had just awaken themselves. I mixed fruit with my oatmeal and grabbed two muffins, one for Bandit and the other for pidgey. The worst that could happen is we discover pidgey fled during the night and Bandit gets two muffins. The juice tasted like syrup, a common problem I had with the Dining Hall.

Back in the room, I tossed Bandit his muffin and cleaned his bandage. The wound healed significantly over night, to the point that he was not favoring his paw when he walked. Because I was still uncertain of how he felt, I put an absurd amount of bandage, medicine, and water in my back pack. I figured if someone was going to get hurt today, they were just as quickly going to be taken care of. There were also unanswered questions regarding pidgey's health. Unlocking my bike took a few minutes, but I didn't mind. The air was light and it felt good to breathe it in deeply. Bandit trotted along the bike when I finally got it undone, and we headed in the same direction we had yesterday. Thankfully I only had one class scheduled for the day, and it was not so important. Missing class is not something I do regularly. In fact, this is only the second time all year, and the first time I was in bed with fever. Somehow my heart justified it, and pedaling up the hill did not hurt as much as it did yesterday.

When we arrived to the same wooded spot, Bandit paused to examine the surroundings. He seemed to remember the direction we took into the woods the first time, and led me to the same cage and now busted up trap. This time I brought my things with me, including my bike. Anyone who kept a trap with a live pidgey in it could only be a despicable person. I didn't hear anything from the cage, but when Bandit lifted me up I saw the injured pidgey in the same position as before. Dropping the muffin in the cage as softly as possible, I realized the muffin was larger than the pidgey. At the sound of the thud, the pidgey opened its eyes. Before I could break the muffin into smaller pieces, it was gone. Gasping for breath, pidgey fell on its side. I put the tiny bowl of water I brought in the cage and told Bandit to let me down. I wasn't sure what reaction I would get, and pidgey was clearly overcome with emotion. On the ground, I heard happy chirps and tapping against the floor of the cage. Bandit and I rested from our journey while the pidgey rested from its meal. Bandit liked for me to read to him. Leaning against his burly figure, I read a book about a mysterious pirate and his self discovery on a deserted island.

"_With no more food left from the original ship, Chip was forced to search for his next meal in the deepest parts of the jungle. His belly grumbled and ached to the point that he felt he would do anything for a rotten potato. To get a better view of his surroundings, he began to climb up a tree using what little strength he had remaining_."

With only two chapters left in the book, I told Bandit we would save the last pages for tomorrow. Turning to put the book back into my bag, I suddenly became aware of something on my shoulder. Sweeping my hand across the side of my shoulder, I felt the painful piercing of a beak at the center of my hand. Pidgey dug her feet into my back and began flailing madly. I looked to Bandit for help but he was rolling around in the fallen leaves snorting from amusement. More than anything, I wanted to smack the creature off my back, but in my peripheral I saw the matted feathers that were struggling to flap back and forth. I fell to the ground, imitating a defeated foe. The flailing and shrieking stopped, and I felt the skin on my back release. Hesitantly, pidgey hopped off my shoulder and pushed hair from my neck to the opposite shoulder. Bandit calmed himself and approached the pidgey. Placing his massive paw on my head, he turned to the victor and gave a congratulatory howl. Pidgey however, was upset. I heard her shuffle to my bag. Looking up, I saw the pidgey pilfer through the variety of medicines trying to decide which to use. Bandit kept me positioned on the ground as if he wanted me to allow this self appointed doctor aid my nonexistent maladies. She pulled out the anti-infection spray, (a relatively useless product) and impressively, began spraying it in my hair. I rose slowly and pretended to be dizzy. Satisfied by this, the pidgey flapped around and squawked with pleasure.

In the following hour I was able to restore the pidgey to a state of normalcy. For an abused Pokemon, pidgey awarded her trust to me quickly, although we did have another episode of flailing and clawing. Yet another shirt to throw away when I returned to the room. I made sure not to leave the sight of the cage, because I was afraid it may distress the poor thing. While I washed her, she would look around, as if expecting someone, but Bandit's presence seemed to comfort her, so I had a feeling whoever we were up against would not be a threat for long. As the sun set, my appetite rose and the Pokemon were hungry as well. The question I had tried to avoid all day was what to do with pidgey when this time came. I couldn't leave her here, but if I took her away, she would experience a great amount of stress from the new environment. And where would I keep her? My room was barely big enough for Bandit and I, not to mention my roommate. We could make room though. Sugardough isn't that big... Great I've already given her a name. Now she is practically family. Had I called her that out loud? Maybe if I only thought it in my head, it didn't count as naming her.

Silence roamed around the trees, and crouched behind the dead stumps. Bandit's hair stood up as if ready to attack, and Sugar dough maneuvered her way under my shirt. Her trembling scared me, and I knew the cruel one was near. I grabbed the small towel I brought to dry her with, and wrapped Sugar dough tightly to reduce her stress. Looking at Bandit, I silently mounted my bike. He understood and started forward with me. Holding Sugar dough with one arm and the handles with my free hand, I peddled slowly at first, and as the road entered my sight, urgency and adrenaline propelled me towards it at a speed unknown by common man. I heard the whisp of a bullet spiral past my leg, and my body felt lava-hot. The road was still a good 70 feet. Bandit barreled beside me and I screamed for him to go faster. I knew he could, even on his hurt paw. The last thing I wanted was to have to remove a bullet from his hide. Who would shoot at us like that? As I felt another bullet graze my jeans, I knew they weren't aiming to kill. Either that, or they weren't aiming at all. Bandit shot out ahead onto the road and turned to look back. Sugar dough moved beneath the towel and I squeezed tightly to keep her safe. She pushed harder, and I fought her for her own safety. Little did I know at the time, she was fighting to save me. A blinding light shot out from my arm and I knew I'd been shot.

That was the only explanation. So this was what it was like to die. I told myself to continue pedalling forward and I closed my eyes, but the light was visible through closed lids. Sugar dough flew forward, but with greater force than I had ever felt before. My eyes were able to make out my surroundings little by little, and when the light finally subsided, I stared in amazement at the creature before me.

Pidgeotto.


End file.
